


Preach but do not Practice

by Corycides



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: M/M, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 15:12:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corycides/pseuds/Corycides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles could pretend to be nice until everyone believed they'd changed, until he almost believed it himself, but the filth wasn't gone. It was just pushed down out of sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preach but do not Practice

Nora was dead.

It didn't matter how many times Miles said the words to himself, they didn't hurt enough. Someone he'd loved – might have loved – was dead at the order of someone else he loved. Had loved. That should be enough to squeeze out one normal emotion, to eke out a drab of properly socialised feelings.

It wasn't. Inside he didn't feel that much different – not raw or smashed or scraped out or anything soft. He felt more...cracked. Like Nora had been the plaster on a wall holding something back, and now she was gone he could feel the pressure of it leaking through.

Someone like him could pretend to be nice until everyone believed they'd changed, until he almost believed it himself, but the filth wasn't gone. It was just pushed down out of sight. 

Charlie sat down next to him by the fire, bumping shoulder and hip and not saying anything. It helped. He loved her – his daft, fierce niece – more than he'd thought was possible. What was good for her mattered more than what was good for him. Sometimes. Most of the time.

Except that meant he couldn't have her. Her being his niece wouldn't have stopped him. It wasn't like he'd ever cared about her before, as this idea of a niece. He'd buried his niece 15 years ago, when he'd finally given up looking for his family. In his head he'd marked the whole family as dead and buried them down deep, where the stink of them could feed his anger.

Charlie-the-Girl had no connection in his head to Charlie-the-Niece, and his cock certainly didn't care one way or the other. The thing was, Charlie cared. They were family, that was the veil that allowed her to love him. If he pulled that aside, if he put his hand on her fire-warmed thigh and let it slide upwards, or sobbed on her shoulder and cupped her ass, she'd maybe see the truth.

And Rachel would be only too grateful to point out his sins, in case Charlie missed any.

'I need to walk,' he said, standing up. Charlie started up after him, but he grabbed her shoulder and pushed her back down. He squeezed to take the bite out of his order. 'Alone.'

She pleated her mouth together and gave his thigh a thump-punch of sympathy. If they still had power, his Charlie would a total nerd. He ruffled her hair, fingers not lingering, and ducked out of the circle of firelight. One hand rested on his sword as he walked through the trees, waiting for the heat in his skin to cool.

On his – still heated – way back into camp he noticed that Danny was gone from the fire. Suspicion tugged at him. Monroe had the boy a long time, long enough. They'd turned older, harder soldiers than Danny with less to work with before. 

It wasn't something he could suggest to Charlie though. She'd probably react more favourably to him just grabbing her ass. So Miles went looking on his own. Instinct and a few scuffed boot-prints led him down to the tiny stream they'd gotten water from earlier. Danny was crouched by the bank, grimly scrubbing at the blood and filth on his arms. There was a lattice-works of bruises and cuts and welts on his torso – like a tic-tac-toe board of blood.

No traitor – not yet, anyhow – then, Miles realised. He just didn't want his mom and Charlie to see. Maybe he was more like his sister than Miles had thought on meeting him ('Seriously? This is was it?).

'You'll need antibiotics,' Miles said, leaning his shoulder against a tree. 'Dirty stream water isn't a cure all. I know, pissed me off too when I found out.'

Danny looked up from under the scruffy tangle of his hair – Charlie's big, blue eyes only wary. 'I don't think we have any.'

'We'll get some.'

The smile wasn't Charlie's – Miles wasn't sure why that disappointed him – but it was nice enough. 

'Thanks.'

He unravelled a wet, grubby bandage and clumsily tried to wrap it back around his blistered-raw forearm. Miles caught his tongue on his lips and his brain caught up with his libido. Under the scruff of beat-up – and none of it was life-threatening, Monroe wasn't that stupid and Miles wasn't that sick – Danny had broad shoulders he hadn't quite grown into yet and lean, long slopes of muscle.

'Did Bass do this?' Miles asked, walking over. He touched Danny's shoulder, absorbing the twitch that wasn't pain. 

'Strausser mostly,' Danny said. He sounded bitter. 'Monroe didn't like getting his hands dirty.'

That wasn't true. Maybe it was because the kid looked like Rachel that Bass had to pass the beating over to someone else. Or guilt over Ben.

He offered his hand and Danny accepted the heave to his feet. The bandage on his arm wasn't fastened and he kept fiddling with the frayed end, tucking it in and pulling it out. 

'I haven't said..thanks,' Danny said, shoving his hair back impatiently. Hero-worship flickered through his eyes. His mouth quirked in that not-Charlie smile – but maybe that was ok. 'For coming for me, for saving me...for keeping Charlie safe.'

Fuck it. The moment of decision was crystal clear. Miles had done his best, he'd been so good about staying clear of Charlie. Not touching her unless he had to, not even when he could have got away with stealing a memory of soft skin or tangled hair to wrap around his cock with his hand later. He'd given up Bass, ripped up thirty years of friendship and tossed it to the wind, because this Miles couldn't have survived back there.

Miles grabbed the trailing end of bandage and twisted it around his wrist, reeling a wide-eyed Danny in. So fuck it, he thought, all that good earned him one little bad. One last tug and Danny was pressed against him, free hand clenched and the knuckles braced against Miles' shoulder.

'Uh-'

That word would be a boner-killer. Maybe. Miles kissed him before Danny could roll the rest of the syllables over his tongue, sucking them down along with Danny's breath. He bit the curve of the boy's lip, scraping his teeth along the split until he drew out a whimper, and licked the fresh blood away.

The fist was still pressed his shoulder, but Danny's protests shuddered breathlessly out of his mouth and he wasn't pulling away. Miles shoved him back against a tree and yanked his arm up over his head, hand dangling from the tangle of bandages like a puppet. He shoved his hand down Danny's trousers and grabbed his cock, callused fingers groping the soft swell of flesh.

Danny gave a hiss, shifting his weight like there was something tender down there, but it wasn't bad enough to stop his erection pushing against Miles' fingers. He stroked roughly along the shaft, not bothering with any sort of finesse. He remembered being a teenager, a cross-wind and a book to press against could get you off.

The mutters of 'don't' and 'this is wrong' had died away, replaced by ragged groans and choked back 'fucks' and 'pleases' as Danny's body arched up into Miles' hand. Splotches of hot pink coloured his face and he squeezed his eyes shut.

'Did Bass ever touch you?' Miles asked roughly, jealously scraping at the crack Nora had left in his control. He was sharply pleased when Danny shook his head mutely. 'Did Strausser?'

It was unlikely. Strausser was a textbook Criminal Minds sadist, all knife and no hard-on. He'd have cut the kid's dick off, not played with it. Sure enough, Danny shook his head again. 

'Do you want me to stop?' Miles asked, curling his hand against Danny's hip and pushing back against the tree. Danny squirmed, trying to thrust against something, and shook his head frantically. 'Good boy.'

He finished Danny off quickly, squeeze at the base of his cock and the swipe of his thumb over the sensitive head. Danny bucked against him, sticky wetness coating Miles fingers, and then slouched back against the tree. His face was flushed dazed, his lips bloody. The weight of him dragged at Miles arm, slumping from the make-shift shackle of the bandage.

Miles let go, shaking to the loops off his fingers, and Danny crumpled to his knees in the loam. He bit his lip to stop from crying out, because he didn't want anyone to hear either. Miles unbuckled his belt and shoved his jeans down over lean hips, lazily stroking his cock harder with one hand.

'Turn about is fair play, kid,' he said, stepping forward so his cock bumped Danny's lip.

The nervous swipe of Danny's tongue flicked across the head of Miles' cock, clenching his balls painfully up against his pelvis. There weren't really a whole lot of options here that didn't involve humiliation or a cock in his mouth. Danny went for the second option, leaning forwards and wrapping his lips around Miles' cock. 

The wet, hot suck of lips and tongue nearly made Miles embarrass himself, need punching through his guts. 

It had been a while. A quiet, joyless fuck with the doctor that first night – him in no mood to play sweet and slow and let her pretend he was Ben – and a few hungry kisses with Nora. She'd wanted to take it slow this time, actually talk instead of screwing. Other than that, nothing but his hand when he could grab five minutes from rescuing Charlie from rescuing someone.

Luckily, Danny wasn't that good. He bobbed fast and moist, lips slack, as heat scalded up into his temples. Miles twisted a hand in his hair and set the pace.

'Suck it,' he said, tugging on a handful of hair to underline the order. Muscles in his thighs clenched as Danny obeyed, cheeks hollowing and lips tightening around Miles' cock. 'Use your tongue. That's right.'

He stood and watched Danny suck him, spit wet and shining on his cock, until his control finally slipped away. His hand dropped to the back of Danny's head, holding him still, as Miles thrust into the sweet, slippery heat of his mouth. The splutter and choke as he hit the back of Danny's throat clenched around his cock like a hand and he held Danny still as he came. He waited until he saw the boy swallow before he stepped back, sliding his cock from between red, swollen lips. Blood smeared the length of it and Miles enjoyed the dark flicker of amusement at taking his nephew's cherry. One of them.

Miles wiped his cock clean and tugged his pants back up, euphoria fading as the doubts and worries of reality crowded back in. Somehow he couldn't see Charlie understanding his theory of 'just one bad'. He switched onto autopilot, hauling Danny back to his feet and wiping come off his lip, as his mind flicked through options.

It would be easier, he thought almost regretfully, if the wall came down. Evil had a lot more options than trying to be mostly good did.

'I shouldn't have done that,' he said, cupping Danny's chin. 'Your mom wouldn't understand.'

Danny wiped her hand over his mouth. 'I don't understand.'

'Yeah, you do,' Miles said, kissing him. 'I wanted it too. I wanted you. Charlie, though, she'll think we're disgusting.'

'No,' Danny said, fear dulling his eyes. 'She'd understand-'

'You're my nephew, kid,' Miles said, sliding his hand between the boy's thighs and squeezing. With the willingness of youth, Danny's cock hardened hopefully. 'How's she gonna understand this? She thinks you're still a kid. Not...this.'

'Don't tell her.' Danny said. He closed his eyes as Miles rubbed him through his trousers. 'Please?'

'If that's what you want,' Miles said. He put his thumb under Danny's chin and lifted it, meeting Danny's blue eyes. 'And thanks. I needed that.'


End file.
